Crossroads
by sugaredkiwi
Summary: Some introspection as to how Dante and Vergil might have worked as a team, had Temen-ni-Gru never been raised. One shot.


**Author's Notes: **This was more of a character study than anything, for the pair of twins I write for called the Roadtrip!Twins. Just a peek into how they might have functioned as a team, rather than constantly clawing at one another's throats.

**ONE SHOT**

* * *

"Hypnos and Thanatos." It was said quietly, under Dante's breath, as he watched Vergil from some distance away, cleaning his sword with that detachment that both frightened Dante and at the same time awoke a deep and fierce envy that he couldn't explain. "That's what we are. Just two sides of the same coin." It was a recent revelation, that, and one that still caused him to give a soft (if somewhat nervous) rift of laughter that he hid behind the sleeve of his jacket. He hoped, to Vergil at least, it looked as though he were simply wiping his mouth or something just as innocuous. He didn't want his brother giving him that look.

That appraising look, as though he were judging Dante's worth and sanity, as though the elder twin had any room to do such a thing, considering he was as nutty as squirrel shit. And it wasn't like Dante didn't point that out daily, what little good it did.

And, truth be told, he was sure if Vergil _had_ heard him, he would have already laid Dante open with the sharp side of his tongue, considering he didn't consider his little brother driven or intelligent enough to even know who Hypnos and Thanatos were. But it was true wasn't it? Death and his brother Sleep, and what a pair they made, when they weren't too busy busting one another up for shits and giggles. The proof of it lay in the pudding of the hacked-apart remains of the demons that had tried to get the jump on them in the old Victorian Vergil had decided to drag them to.

It was carnage, and it was only right, Dante figured - and only in this instance - that Vergil deliver the final killing blow to their would-be attackers, being the one that Dante associated whole-heartedly with Thanatos. His brother was no merciful Death, that was true, but he supposed when it came to things that went bump in the night, merciful Death didn't matter a fucking bit. And Sleep had no place with things like that, unless He planned on being the final Sleep - which, of course, was what had brought up that whole disturbing line of though of he and Vergil not being so different from one another to begin with.

Vergil turned then, eyes tinted with a sllight trigger and glowing faintly in the dark. That was one thing, at least, Dante could say never failed to creep him out. And he was sure Vergil knew that, which was probably why the elder twin kept it (perhaps even deepening it a bit) as he approached the younger twin carefully over the demonic carcasses that littered the large library. Yet Dante held his ground, refusing to flinch away from that unnatural coloring of the eyes, and that unnatural hollowing and widening of them as well. It would give more ammo to Vergil, and he really, really didn't feel up to a fight about it.

Despite the disturbing change in Vergil's eyes, Dante held his gaze steadily, even feeling sure he'd managed a good expression of boredom, acting as though he were holding back a yawn. "We done here? Or you looking to dig out more chew toys from this fucking mausoleum?"

Vergil snorted at that, tilting his head slightly to the side, as though trying to find a chink in Dante's armor of casual words and bored expression. "Bored already? While I admit these aren't _nearly_ up to our usual standards, they offer _some_ entertainment. But if it suits you..." He trailed off, waving a hand, keeping Dante pinned in that unnerving eye-triggered gaze. Dante refused to squirm under it, and it took every ounce of willpower not to, and to continue to keep his own steady, but eventually Vergil tired of the game and turned away. Dante gave a silent sigh of relief over that, before taking the time to actually look at their surroundings more carefully than when they'd entered the room and been jumped.

Though perhaps larger and more extensive than normal, it was nothing special as home libraries went. At least, it wasn't in Dante's opinion, even though, as he scanned the fading gilt lettering on the many books rising high to the ceiling on tall shelves nearest to him, he could see, perhaps, why Vergil had wanted to 'commandeer' at least part of it. It was right up his brother's alley, full of books Dante doubted he'd ever touch, because he had no need to meddle in black magic or the affairs of demons, other than to sent them straight to jail - do not pass Go, do not collect two-hundred dollars.

Vergil called him a fool for that, but in reality...What did Vergil really know?

Vergil glided along the shelves slowly (and that was the truth of it; Vergil didn't _walk_, he _glided_ half the time, and that was a little creepy, as well), passing through Dante's line of vision as the younger twin spotted a desk in the middle of the room (Had he jumped over it a time or two during the fight? He was sure he had.) and made his way toward it. That was more his thing; information on the folks who _did_ mess with things they had no business with, and the nature of the things they had stuck their fingers in. That way, when the call came, he'd know what he was up against.

Not that it would matter, Vergil would say. Dante's modus operandi was to charge in, according to the elder twin, like a flailing idiot to shoot and hack first, ask questions later.

Didn't Vergil realize that Dante did that because he was already assured of victory? Well, Dante conceeded, as he reached the desk and scanned its surface, he never _did_ inform Vergil of the things he knew. Never did like to show much intelligence at all around the elder twin, in the sense that Vergil would understand it. Just as he never wanted to show his connection to his own demonic side, as deep as it was becoming. Vergil would get that appraising look once more, as though he were trying to see a way to draw out the 'potential' he saw in Dante, but considered Dante a miserable failure at drawing out himself.

They were two sides of the same coin, yes, but Dante had his own way of doing things, and Vergil had no place trying to force his will upon Dante to make him more like his elder twin. Dante had no _desire_ to be that, especially when he glanced up from a paper he'd found and was scanning, to dart a glance at Vergil, and realized the elder twin still had not dropped the eye trigger. He couldn't blame it on Vergil not knowing he was doing it, because Vergil could control it at will. And perhaps it was a switch over to more night-suited vision, considering the library was deeply shadowed, but it didn't make it any less worrisome.

Dante had seen what that led to _once_ with his brother, and he was completely in the belief he never wanted to see it again. After all, that hadn't been his twin; that had been...Well.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Dante went back to rifling through the desk and its drawers, tucking away bits of paper that contained things that struck his fancy. It never hurt to be _too_ prepared, after all. Likewise, in an equally unself-conscious fashion, Vergil loaded his arms with books that pertained to his own interests. In that, at least, it could never be said the twins had any problem with taking the things they wanted and needed - by force if need be - and not care a whit about what the owners of said property might say or do.

Of course, Dante had the feeling the 'owners' of this property were no longer a part of the world of the living; if by some miracle they were, they weren't meant for it long. He knew his brother well.

But that didn't really matter, if Dante thought about it, because the proof was in the papers he'd gathered and tucked away in his jacket. These weren't very savory individuals. They would, if he'd read things right, have caused him more trouble than Dante was sure they were worth, and so he supposed he should thank Vergil for taking care of the problem before it had become one.

Not that he would.

Soon enough, Vergil had filled his arms with books of all shapes and thicknesses, and padded his way over to where Dante was shutting the last desk drawer after rifling through it, his eyes their normal icy blue. For that, Dante would be eternally grateful. He hated the way the others looked; they made his brother seem a monster, and while he might be compared to the normal individual, he was still Dante's brother, and he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it.

"Time to go, little brother." Dante also knew that tone, and the slight twitch of Vergil's mouth. His brother was amused, no doubt, by both what he had found, and the fact that his brother had set to in his own way to gain knowledge, albeit of a different sort. "We can return at a later date for round two, but there is one more place we must go. Hop to."

Dante's eyes narrowed the slightest bit, his mouth flattening into a hard line. He hated when Vergil did that shit, as though Dante were a child, and Vergil very well knew that. Which was why he did it in the first place, the bastard. But that was okay. He wasn't going to be the one to start an argument. What he'd recently come to realize wouldn't allow him to stir the pot in a fragile state of peace and contentment between them. "Sure. Whatever, Sparky." Patting at his jacket, he made sure all of the papers were secure, before straightening and pulling the jacket a little tighter around himself. "What's next? If it's dumping a body, I _told_ you I ain't helping you do that shit anymore. Remember the last time?"

From the way Vergil's mouth tightened and his brow drew into a frown, he very well did. And Dante didn't doubt for an instant he was blaming his little brother for the whole zombie fiasco that had taken place. Didn't Vergil _know_ you didn't dump bodies in an Indian burial ground? Of course not, because Vergil was batshit. "You'll help me dump a body if I tell you to, wibbler. However, luckily for you, no, we are not doing so. Now, march."

Dante opened his mouth to argue, already gearing up for a knock-down drago-out fight over it, before shutting it with a snap. Sometimes it was better not to do so. Sometimes it was better to just go along with Vergil's little plans and schemes, to keep the peace. And that was the only reason, after shooting Vergil a dark, threatening look, he started for the door leading out of the library.

Even if he did end up on another body-dumping mission, that was preferable than going home to lick physical wounds, rather than those to his pride; at least in that instance.


End file.
